Hanging by a Moment
by DarkestWolfx
Summary: Virgil loses complete sight and sound of Gordon. For a moment, nothing else matters. Second of a two part piece. Spoilers for 'Weather or Not' (24/12/16).


You probably don't have to have read the first to read this, but I think they tie together nicely. Enjoy.

* * *

Heart in throat.

Quite honestly he wasn't sure he could breathe yet alone speak.

" _Gordon?"_ Nothing. Heart do not leave throat, he'll be fine. He _has_ to be fine. Keep telling yourself that, Virgil. Keep calm, keep looking, you'll spot him… Unless of course he was still on the tower when it fell and may right now be dead – or worse, dying – beneath it, alone, injured… _no_ , no, no _no!_ Gordon would be fine. Gordon had to be fine. He was always _fine_ even when he wasn't. So in short, he had to be absolutely fine.

If not Fischler could count on being buried. He could quite lightly count on joining The Hood in prison. Scott wouldn't be pleased, Colonel Casey probably wouldn't be able to help. The Tracy family would be broken once again.

" _Where are you?"_

" _Oh, just hanging out."_

Hanging out? With Fischler? Gordon wouldn't use such phrasing surely? Or… no hanging out as in hanging from the escape harness.

 _Great._

Yes, Fischler was dead. Precisely five seconds after he boarded Thunderbird Two he would be dead. He'll spell it to him if that's what it took for the man to get the message for goodness knows he was terrible at taking hints!

Gordon collapsed against the now closed hatch in exhaustion. Holding on for all that way up would have taken the energy out of anyone, least of all someone who is used to aqua sports. He sat wearily beside him for their landing, collapsing into the comfier back of the chair as he had to the hard, cold base. He tried to make the landing as smooth as possible, which was aided by the fact the storm was now over, though much of the sand had been whipped up like cream.

He didn't like this. Scott wouldn't when he heard – and yes he would hear, whether Gordon tried to keep it from him or not, for Fischler had certainly gone too far already in the eldest eyes and Virgil was certain he would now have officially overstepped the mark. He unclipped his seatbelt and turned to the still weary Gordon, basking in the slight moment of peace.

"Hanging? How did that happen?" Gordon's head fell further back into the seat if that was possible, which he didn't believe it was.

"It's a long story."

"So shorten it." Blunter than it needed to be, with a slight humorous undertone just to let Gordon know he wasn't actually angry at him. Oh no, there was no doubt in his mind that Gordon just chose to hang the whole way up for the fun of it. No, Gordon could do many silly things or say stupid jokes, but he didn't do ridiculous things like that, not when the danger was real.

Gordon sighed before taking another long breath and mumbling beneath it. "Fischler."

 _Exactly._ It always was. _Punch him. No, don't. Let Scott. John can always track him down. No, don't let Scott. What was he thinking? He definitely should._ He wouldn't, because Scott would, so he'd just have to let it be water under the bridge and never give Scott the opportunity. It wasn't like John would ever let slip Fischler's location if the eldest Tracy slipped into a fit of rage.

If he had a larger, fiery temper like Scott, he'd punch the man himself, here and now. But then, that would take away from _this_ moment.

So they were simply sitting in Thunderbird Two, he starring through the window and Gordon reclining in his seat, eyes closed, breathing calm. It was still a _moment._ A moment they may not have had if Gordon didn't hang on for so long.

He didn't want to disturb the peace of his brother, but neither did he want to let him sleep now. One, Thunderbird Two was hardly as comfortable as home and two, who knew if Gordon even should be sleeping after being blown around so much. He could have hit any bone in his body out there. Or his thick skull. Not to mention his back.

Gordon shifted in his seat, groaning quietly, probably in belief Virgil wouldn't notice it, or in thought that maybe he would already have left to get Fischler of his ship. Speaking of, that could be an incredibly wise thing to do, very soon. Very, _very_ soon. Immediately soon. Now, even. But Fischler didn't matter in the big scheme of things and that was why he didn't move.

Ages must have passed in the near silence of him simply watching the younger, of Gordon starting to dose soundly with the odd shift or shuffle, of Fischler causing no disturbances. Thank goodness. Virgil had to keep reminding himself they were on Thunderbird Two still, with company. Eventually the peace was broken by Shadows engines whipping up the sand as Kayo landed near them.

The approach jolted Gordon to wake though he flopped backwards just as soon, sighing with clear exhaustion. They hadn't actually been sat here long: three minutes, four tops.

"You alright, bro?" Gordon opened an eye. The other was clearly too tired to bother.

"Hmm." The younger blinked before opening both eyes, sitting up straighter and wiping at them. "I'm awake!"

"That wasn't what I asked."

"What? Oh no, I'm fine." As if he believed that for a moment. Gordon didn't always show feelings as clearly, but they could always be found if you looked beyond the surface. He was tired, to was aching and he wanted to go home by the effort it was taking him to try and keep up straight, yet regardless he would plough on and finish the mission. He'd pretend he _hadn't_ been falling asleep and Virgil wasn't even going to mention it. It wasn't important.

Gordon was. And he was here. He was on the ground, securely with two feet, not hanging by a moment in which Virgil felt like he was being dangled over the abyss too.

"You're fine?"

"Yes, I already said that."

" _Leave it now."_

"Fair enough."

" _We'll discuss it later."_

Virgil smiled. Not everything they said had to mean exactly that. The slightest curls of a smile formed on Gordon's lips too, widening with every word.

"So… want to get Fischler off Two?"

"Desperately."

"Need a hand?" Gordon raised his left hand. He had to chuckle for even if he did, he wasn't going to just take Gordon's.

"I think I can handle him." He probably could. He still had a lot of strength left, renewed strength actually since he received the main base plot of the story.

"As long as he doesn't leave you 'hanging'." As with Gordon's usual jokes, it was hardly funny. It wasn't funny at all considering the event the aquanaut was trying to make him laugh at but he gave in this time. Instead of the snarky reply and the look from the corners of his eyes he started laughing. Just simply laughing. Gordon's face was well worth it. "Come on, Virgil. That one wasn't funny!"

He ceased the sound with difficulty surprisingly, made worse by Gordon smiling back at him like a buffoon. It was difficult to get proper laughter out of the middle child and here he'd succeeded. Virgil supposed that could warrant a medal of some kind.

"Fischler?" The blonde questioned.

"Before he destroys something, yes." Gordon climbed to his feet and walked before him as they headed through, his steps slower than the usual hop, but the humour was still there, the energy, the life. That was what mattered.

Gordon was still here.

And his heart could stop hanging in his throat.


End file.
